


On The Nickel

by orphan_account



Category: Twenty One Pilots
Genre: Angst mostly, M/M, Slurs, Trans Character, barista josh, homeless tyler, maybe fluff but barely
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-19
Updated: 2016-12-31
Packaged: 2018-09-09 17:03:26
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 8,763
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8900548
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: They don't get it.





	1. Chapter 1

It’s probably too late for Tyler to be doing this, but right now, he just really fucking needs it. He knows it’s almost 9 PM and he knows that he shouldn’t be drinking coffee full of sugar right now, but he can’t really bring himself to care. Apparently, drinking caffeine too late at night will prevent you from sleeping properly, but fuck, when’s the last time Tyler’s slept properly anyway? He can’t remember. Besides, It’s not too often that someone will hand him a ten dollar bill, so he figures good luck warrants a good treat.

The bell that signals his entrance into the coffee shop is loud, far too loud for Tyler’s liking, and for a moment, he almost considers turning right back around in his bitter contempt and going back onto those streets. But he figures that any extra few minutes he can spend off the streets is worth it, so he stays. He ambles up to the counter, the place entirely deserted except for himself, and he tosses the ten dollar bill onto the counter before he even orders anything. He looks up at the barista, but the guy’s eyes don’t meet his own because he’s looking down, eyebrows furrowed as he stares at the crumpled up ten dollar bill that looks like it had been curb-stomped. Given the place where Tyler had received it, It’s likely that it was. However, Tyler does not have time to think about where that ten dollar bill has been and he certainly does not have time to be rude to the barista because he came here for a reason, and he just needs some fucking coffee.

“What can I get you?” The guy finally looks up, seeming to shake off any confusion or distaste for the probably-curb-stomped ten dollar bill and any confusion or distaste for the definitely-curb-stomped man standing in front of him. He smiles brilliantly at Tyler for a moment, but his smile immediately falters when he notices that Tyler is not smiling back. No, Tyler is practically scowling. He’s not angry, per se, but recent events have left him with a permanent frown on his face, and there’s no fucking way some barista with a nice smile is going to change that. So he orders with his grimace still sitting comfortably on his face.

“Uh, white chocolate latte.” The guy’s eyebrows raise, seemingly surprised by a guy like Tyler ordering a drink like that. But what is Tyler like? Apparently, Tyler looks like he’s had a bad day, because the guy’s eyes are moving down his body, not appreciating it, but scrutinizing it, and the next thing he says is “bad day?”

Tyler almost scoffs. Were there even good days anymore? Do those even exist? Or were they some fairytale created to distract kids who just want to be themselves and when people say they’re wrong for it, others can comfort them by saying it was just a “bad day?” Well, fuck bad days. It’s just a day, to Tyler. He stares at the guy, and realizes he hasn’t done anything he’s supposed to be doing. He’s not ringing Tyler up, he’s not asking for his name to put on the cup, he’s not beginning to make his drink. Realizing that he’s not going to get out of this one by ignoring the guy, Tyler breathes in.

“You could say that.” The guy nods, finally beginning to ring up Tyler’s order and make the drink. He doesn’t ask for his name though, and Tyler almost wonders why but lets the vacancy of the place do the explaining for him. With a curt nod, Tyler finishes paying then heads to a table to wait for his drink to be brought out.

He sits and waits and thinks. His face is in his hands, but his eyes are peeking out through the gaps between his fingers, one eye on the strange barista, and one eye on the window next to him. He’s scoping out the street nearby, wondering if it would be an alright place to sleep tonight. He shakes his head. There’s no “alright place” when you’re sleeping on the fucking street. He still sitting and waiting and thinking when the guy comes over with two drinks in his hands. Tyler is about to speak up, about to ask who the fuck orders two coffees at nine o-fucking-clock at night but the guy beats him to it.

“Would you like some company?” Tyler raises his eyebrows, but nonetheless, gestures to the seat across the table from him. The guy smiles lightly, setting both drinks on the table before settling down in his seat, and Tyler wonders how this guy can be so happy when he’s encountering Tyler fucking Joseph, of all people.

This time, the guy is looking at Tyler, but Tyler is the one not looking back at him. Tyler is still sitting and thinking, but at least he’s not waiting anymore. “What’s your name?” the guy asks, and Tyler doesn’t answer right away. He’s still staring out the window, checking out a bench across the street near a bus stop. He takes a big sip of his drink, ignoring, no, _relishing_ in the burning feeling it sends down his throat. He looks over to the guy who has just picked his drink up, and sets his own down.

“Tyler.”

“Josh,” the guy says, pointing to his nametag. Tyler hadn’t even thought of looking at it before, and he still isn’t that interested.

“Why do you think I had a bad day?” Tyler’s eyes are piercing into Josh’s, instantly forming barricades in an attempt to keep him out of his mind. It doesn’t work.

“I can tell. You seem tired, you look worn, I don’t know.” Josh shrugs, and again, Tyler wants to scoff, but he doesn’t. He bites his lip as he looks down at his ensemble. He’s not dressed like a homeless person, like the ones you see on the streets of wherever the fuck that are all in rags and ripped clothes. He’s dressed like a normal guy, and he can’t help but wonder if maybe Josh didn’t mean that his clothes looked worn, maybe just his skin, his entire _body_ is worn. He wouldn’t be wrong. But he goes with the direction of clothes anyway, and uses it to retaliate.

“You look tired, too. Your clothes are worn, too.” Josh’s eyes get sharp at this for a moment, as if they’re swords being unsheathed from their brown casing, but somehow, his voice doesn’t reflect it.

“I’ve been working all day.”

“Well shit, I’ve been working all day, too.”

“What do you do?”

“Walking.” Josh blinks.

“Your job is . . . _walking?”_ Tyler would laugh, but he’s too busy being serious.

“Yes.”

“And . . . you make _money_ doing that?”

“Sometimes.”

“Sometimes,” Josh repeats with furrowed eyebrows and a small nod. And apparently, that’s that, because neither of them say anything further. They take a sip of their respective drinks almost simultaneously, but neither of them notice.

“I have to go. You’re probably supposed to be closed by now, anyways.”

“Right,” Josh blinks again, “I’ll see you around, man.” Tyler neither confirms nor denies this as heads out the door, leaving an almost entirely full white chocolate latte still sitting on the table across from Josh.


	2. Chapter 2

Josh hates his job.

That’s not true, though. He loves being a barista. But he hates his boss, or whoever it is that gives him a shift at 7 o’clock in the fucking morning after he had to close just the night before.

Needless to say, it’s an early morning for Josh, and he’s not even fully awake. He walks down the empty street to the coffee shop, mindful of side-stepping around the litter and homeless people on the streets around him. He doesn’t pity them. He figures that homeless people are homeless people because they’re drug addicts and drunk bastards. He rolls his eyes at one that holds their hand out for spare change.  _ Yeah, I’ll pay for your addiction. Fucking sure, buddy. _

Another few paces and he reaches a bus stop, where another presumably addict homeless person is sleeping on the bench. He almost rolls his eyes again, but this time, they don’t get that far because something holds them still. Something familiar.

It doesn’t take long to recognize that the guy sleeping here on the bench is the same guy from the coffee shop last night. Tyler, his name was. Josh would have never guessed that he would be homeless, and Josh certainly would have never guessed that he would be an addict. He’s still staring when Tyler cracks one eye open, looking up skeptically at Josh as he croaks out “what do you want?”

Josh blinks, then blinks again, suddenly at a loss for words. He breathes in as if he’s preparing to say something, but is then hit with the realization that he still doesn’t have anything to say. Tyler sits up, opening both eyes and resting his hands on his knees.

“Dude,” he says, and somehow, that snaps Josh out of it. Tyler rolls his eyes, and Josh isn’t deterred.

“Come with me,” he says. He doesn’t make it a question, because a question means possible rejection, and Josh doesn’t do rejection. Tyler shrugs and stands up, stretching his aching back with barely a grimace as he follows Josh into the nearby coffee shop in silence.

Once again, it’s empty save for Tyler. Neither of them speak, neither dare until Josh nods his head in the direction of the table they had sat in the night before, signalling for Tyler to go sit down. Tyler furrows his brows momentarily, about to make some comment about how he doesn’t take commands, especially not from a fucking barista, but he saves it once he realizes that he had just taken Josh’s command of coming with him to the coffee shop. He turns on his heel and heads to the table.

As he walks over, Josh takes note of the way Tyler is staring at him. He doesn’t have to catch his attention today, he’s not sitting and waiting and thinking. He’s too busy staring. Josh sits down finally, setting two coffee cups down, the same coffees they’d had yesterday, down on the table, the same table they’d sat at yesterday. He meets Tyler’s eyes with a cocked eyebrow that is immediately reciprocated.

“So,” he starts, because how the fuck do you start a conversation like this? Josh isn’t shy, but Josh has never had to ask someone about being homeless.

“How are you?” Tyler asks, because Tyler is an asshole. Josh gives him a look that says “really?” and Tyler almost laughs.

“Why didn’t you tell me you were homeless?” Now it’s Tyler’s turn to give the look that says “really?” He sets the scene.

“‘Hi, what can I get you?’ ‘White chocolate latte. I’m homeless.’” He deadpans. Josh rolls his eyes. Fucking prick.

“You know that’s not what I meant.”

“Then what did you mean, Josh?” Tyler leans forward, and if it weren’t for the smirk on his face Josh would think he was genuinely offended. But Tyler’s not that kind of guy. 

“I meant when we talked  _ after _ .” Tyler leans back again, nodding his head slowly, seeming to be thinking about this. He’s not, though. He just wants to make it seem like he is, because Tyler is an asshole.

“I don’t know. I didn’t want to tell you, I guess,” he’s serious now, and Josh is intrigued, “didn’t want you to find out.” Josh purses his lips.

“Can I ask why you’re homeless?”

“Sure, you can ask.” Tyler is an asshole.

“Will you answer me?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Tyler waves a hand, “Uh, I was . . .  _ orphaned _ .”  _ Lieslieslies.  _ He nods his head slowly as he says the last word, then keeps his eyes down on the table in front of him. Josh is visibly taken aback.

“Really?” Tyler looks up at him now. The Look is back. “When?” Josh asks, because Josh is nosy as fuck. But he figures that if Tyler wanted to stop talking about it he would, and he clearly doesn’t.

“A while ago, actually.”  _ Lieslieslies _ . “It was a car accident.”  _ Lieslieslies _ . “I don’t know.” Josh nods, he’s thinking. Tyler doesn’t like how quiet he suddenly is. He doesn’t want pity. He takes it upon himself to speak up. “Yeah, so. I’ve been out there for a bit. No money, no home. You know how that goes.” And Josh wants to tell him that no, he doesn’t know how that goes. He also wants to tell him that a home and a house are two very different things, and yeah, maybe you need money for a house, but you certainly don’t need money to have a home. He doesn’t say any of this, though. He says something entirely different, something that hadn’t even occurred as a thought in his mind, but it comes out of his mouth nonetheless.

“Why don’t you stay at my place?”

“You’re offering a complete stranger and homeless person to stay at your house?” Josh shrugs. He  _ is _ . He’s offering this guy, this weird, sarcastic homeless guy who’s probably not a druggie because he’s actually just an orphan if he wants to stay at his place. He doesn’t dwell on it.

“You’re not a stranger anymore.” Tyler shakes his head.

“Thanks, but I couldn’t do that, man.”

“Well, let me at least get you a job here. You could save up.” Tyler shakes his head again, already beginning to stand up. Josh looks up at him, wary.

“Not really my thing,” Tyler says, and Josh is confused. How could money and coffee not be his ‘thing?’ And what the fuck even is a ‘thing?’ “Thanks for the coffee, though.” Josh nods, and Tyler leaves, throwing his empty coffee cup out on the way. 


	3. Chapter 3

Josh shouldn’t be going into work today, but  _ of course _ , one of his coworkers had to leave for a family emergency, and asked him to cover.  _ My girlfriend’s giving birth! _ Whatever, fuck you.

Josh shouldn’t be going into work today, but now that he is, he can’t help but notice the fight that’s going on in an alleyway by the coffee shop. It’s nothing new, really. It’s a rough area, gang shit happens, and people fight. No big deal. But what  _ is _ a big deal is when Josh can recognize one of the guys getting beat up on. Of fucking course, it’s Tyler.

Josh recognizes Tyler’s voice on one particularly loud shout, and his head snaps around in the direction of the alley. Normally, Josh would watch, maybe laugh a bit, then be on his way. Normally, the guys are evenly matched and it breaks up on their own. And for a moment, he does watch. He sits there like some pompous prick, arms crossed as he leans against the brick wall to his right. He’s shaking his head, as if he’s better than those people for not being in a fight right now. But after the moment has passed, Josh realizes that the other guy is twice the size of Tyler, and he’s beating him up with ease, dragging him around like a playtoy and spitting out profanities like it’s his job. Josh could walk away. Josh could walk away and pretend like he didn’t even notice it happening. He could go into that coffee shop and wait for Tyler to come in and ask him why he was so beat up as if he didn’t already know and he could sit there and listen to Tyler tell him his probably-biased side of the story and Josh could agree with him, telling him you’re right, you’re right, fuck that guy, you’re right. Josh could walk away, and he’s almost about to when there’s one notably, sickeningly loud crunch of a fist colliding with a jaw, followed by a shout of “fucking  _ queer! _ ” that definitely did not come from Tyler’s mouth.

Josh acts quickly, jumps up from the wall like it’s on fucking fire and he’ll burn to death if he doesn’t get away from it that very minute, that very second. Scanning his surroundings for something he can use, he supposes that a thick plank of wood will do. It’s covered in shattered glass and Josh cuts his hand as he brushes it off. But he doesn’t give it a second thought as he continues to pick up the wood in firm hands. He carries it over to the scene of the fight, creeping up behind the burly guy, watching carefully as Tyler stops fighting back, standing still with a shocked look on his face when he sees Josh. The neanderthal he’s fighting seems to notice Tyler’s stare, confusion growing within him as he turns around, breathing heavily in rage at whatever or whoever the fuck interrupted his fight. But before he can get a good look at the intruder, he gets a wooden plank to the face and the sudden loss of consciousness.

Josh almost wants to stand there at look at the body in silence for a moment. Josh almost wants to feel proud, accomplished even. Josh almost wants there to be a dramatic moment between them where Tyler thanks him profusely and they skip off in glee and he almost wants Tyler to tell him that he owes him one but he doesn’t. Tyler is too quick for what Josh almost wants and he says something else instead.

“What the fuck did you do that for?” He practically yells. Josh cringes, not expecting the sudden volume. He recovers, gives Tyler an almost incredulous look, and laughs bitterly, because surely, Tyler’s kidding. Surely, Tyler is going to thank him, say “I don’t know what I would have done without you.” Surely, Tyler is joking.

But surely, Tyler’s not, and Josh stops his laughter when the realization hits him. He drops the plank of wood, pricking his finger one last time as it slides out of his hand rather than dropping entirely. The sound of the wood hitting the grass is quiet, like it doesn’t want to interrupt the staredown between the two.

“Are you kidding me?”

“No?”

“I just saved your ass, and you’re asking me why?” Josh rolls his eyes. He thinks he has Tyler figured out, thinks he knows that Tyler is some weak guy who likes to pretend he’s tough. Some orphan who gave the fuck up and lived on the streets when his parents died, thought he could defend himself. Josh thinks he can’t.

“I don’t need you to fight my fucking battles for me, dude.” Tyler knows Josh thinks he has him figured out. Josh thinks Tyler is an orphan, Josh thinks Tyler is just some homeless guy who’s never known actual adversity. Tyler knows Josh thinks he’s weak. 

“He would have  _ killed _ you.”

“Fuck you, man. I can fight by myself.” He spits, blood and saliva clumping together to form a substance almost offensive in appearance. Josh watches it fall to the ground, then looks back up to Tyler,  _ really _ looks at him in the glow of the dim light overhead. He looks at the blood on Tyler’s lip and the way it matches the blood on his hands, and can’t help but think it looks kind of pretty.

Tyler rolls his eyes. He begins to walk away. He almost wants Josh to call him back, almost wants him to apologize for stepping into his fight like that. He almost wants Josh to want  _ him _ to go back. But he doesn’t. Josh stays silent, dumbfounded as he watches Tyler’s frail body trudge away, disappearing into silent darkness.

He does his best to shake off the incident, makes his way to the coffee shop yet again. He’s bitter. He’s so fucking bitter because of that bastard who made him come into work today and that other bastard whose girlfriend is probably birthing a child right in this very moment. He’s bitter because had he been home like he was supposed to be, Josh wouldn’t have just gotten involved in some street fight. He wouldn’t have pissed off Tyler, that other bastard who he honestly just cannot figure out. He’s bitter, because that’s just what Josh is. He’s smiles at customers who he’ll never see again, but he’s scowls at the people he actually wants to stay in his life. That’s why he won’t smile too much at Tyler anymore, and that’s why he’s bitter.

He’s inside the coffee shop, the sweet smell in the air already too much for his bitterness. He’s putting on his apron, and he can’t stop thinking. He can’t stop thinking about Tyler, or the guy he fought, or the blood on their bodies, or the wooden plank with glass. He can’t stop thinking about the fight, and he can’t stop thinking about the way people fight with both words and fists around here, because it seemed that Tyler had been hurt equally by both.


	4. Chapter 4

Tyler’s not sure whether or not he has a reason to be doing this. Sure, he’d been genuinely mad at Josh last night, but now? Now Tyler just feels like a dick. This is new to Tyler. He doesn’t really _do_ guilt. He sees himself as unapologetic in every sense, never stopping to think about how his actions affect others, just doesn’t give a fuck about anything. So why is he back in the coffee shop, staring at Josh from across the counter? He doesn’t know himself.

They’re standing still, silent, face to face. It doesn’t occur to Tyler that yet again, Josh is not doing what he should be doing. Josh is not taking Tyler’s order or ringing him up or rushing around making his drink. No, Josh is staring straight across at Tyler with a rag in his hand but he’s not cleaning the counter.

They’re both silent, but with different expressions on their faces. Josh is not mad, rather annoyed and disbelieving. Tyler doesn’t blame him. He’s staring blankly at Tyler, Tyler who has the audacity to come back here after pulling the shit he did last night. He notices the way that Tyler’s lip is still busted and slightly swollen. He still thinks he looks pretty, but doesn’t dare let that thought show.

Tyler is apprehensive. He bites his lip, thinking of how to start this conversation. His eyebrows are raised in hope, hope that Josh will step up and speak up and just fucking make this easier for him, for the both of them. And he does. Sort of.

“Go sit down,” Josh says, not moving, not taking his eyes off of Tyler’s. Tyler nods eagerly, releases his lip from in between his teeth and hurries over to the same table he’s been sitting at for the past two days. Now that he’s sitting down, he finds himself in the same situation he’d been in just two days prior. He’s sitting and he’s waiting and he’s thinking. But this time, he’s waiting and thinking about entirely different things.

When Josh finally comes over, Tyler doesn’t even give him time to breathe before he jumps into his apologies. He nearly scares himself with the speed and naturality the “I’m sorry I’m sorry i’m sorry”s that come out of his mouth. It feels too natural. It should. It’s not like he hasn’t said these words before, hasn’t begged for forgiveness from one person or another. And it hasn’t been a while since it’s happened last, and all of a sudden Tyler realizes that maybe he’s not really all that unapologetic after all.

“I have a short temper, man. I can’t help it sometimes, I-”

“Save it.” Josh cuts him off, and Tyler doesn’t blame him. “I don’t need to hear that shit.”

“Well what do you need to hear? I don’t want to just stare at you.”

“I want to hear you say you’ll stay at my place tonight.” Tyler sighs. He’s not surprised. Josh is bitter, but Josh is nice. He stands up, Josh giving him an inquisitive look.

“Well? Let’s go, then,” Tyler says. Josh just smiles lightly, but doesn’t let it linger, because he’s smiles at people he’ll never see again, but he’s scowls at people he actually wants to stay in his life. So he scowls behind Tyler’s back as they head out the door.

And if Tyler realizes that they hadn’t even had coffee this time, he doesn’t say anything.

* * *

 The first thing Tyler says when he walks through the front door of Josh’s house is “This reminds me of my parents’ house.” Josh blinks. He stares. He can’t quite decipher what that means, and judging by the look on his face, Tyler can tell. He laughs. “It’s not a bad thing,” he says. But does that make it a good thing?

Josh takes his shoes off at the door, Tyler following suit. Shadowing Josh through the house, Tyler feels awkward. He _is_ awkward, because he’s in the house of a barista he’s known for just a few days. A barista he keeps lying to. He shakes off his thoughts, justifies his lies internally. He shifts his focus and takes note of just how plain the house is. Minimal decorations, monochrome furniture, and a curious lack of lighting. The house stays fairly dark, even after Josh flicks on a few weak lamps they come across on their way to wherever he’s taking Tyler.

Coming to the second to last door in a narrow hallway, Josh stops and turns. He claps his hands together loudly, and Tyler cringes at the sound, but Josh doesn’t notice.

“You can stay in the guest room . . .” He reaches to push open the door in front of him. “You can take a shower, the bathroom’s down the hall.” Tyler nods, scratching the back of his neck. “I can give you some clothes. They might be big, but . . .” He trails off, heading into the room all the way at the end of the hall, presumably his own. While he’s gone, Tyler takes a peek into the guest room. As expected, it’s horribly plain. Black walls and a gray bed set, but he can’t deny that it’s clean. He turns back when he notices that Josh has returned, holding a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt. He holds them out to Tyler who thanks him eagerly. He’s about the step into the guest room to set down his things, but a second thought reveals that he doesn’t have “things.” He has a jacket and a thin t-shirt, some jeans and ripped shoes, but he doesn’t have “things.”

“I’ll be in the living room,” Josh says, and Tyler thanks him one last time before heading down the hallway to find the bathroom. Upon entering, the first thing he does is look in the mirror. He’s insulted by his reflection. He hasn’t been homeless too long, but he can still see it in the way the bags under his eyes are deeper and darker than they used to be, in the way his cheeks look gaunt and frail. Noticing the bruise around his jaw, he makes a sour face at himself, then turns away and strips out of his clothes. Stepping into the shower, the hot water is a pleasant relief, much like the rest of staying at Josh’s place. Josh _alone_ is a relief. Tyler gets off in the shower while thinking about Josh.

After his shower, Tyler steps back out, checks his face in the mirror one last time, and can’t deny that he looks at least slightly better. He pulls on Josh’s clothes, uncertain of the way they hang loosely off of him, but he ignores it. He goes back into the guest room, throwing his worn clothes into a pile on the floor.

Tyler is tired, but he’s not going to bed. Tyler is laying under the covers in the dark with his eyes closed, but he’s not asleep. And Josh knows. Josh has gotten up, gone over to the guest bedroom to see Tyler pretending to be asleep.

“Hey,” he tries. There’s no response. He sighs, and he knows Tyler is awake. “Do you wanna watch a movie with me?”

Tyler almost groans, but not in exasperation. Because of course, _of course_ Josh is the kind of guy to stay at home on the weekends and watch movies by himself on his couch. Tyler doesn’t say a word, doesn’t have to as he flips the covers up, stands up, and follows Josh down the hall to the living room.

“I hope you like Star Wars,” Josh comments, and Tyler almost smiles. Almost. They set down on the couch together, far apart enough to not be touching, but close enough that they could touch if they need to. But they don’t need to, so they don’t touch. Not yet.

It’s not even the beginning of the movie when Josh turns the volume down extremely low to turn his attention to Tyler who is straddling his lap and kissing him hard. He doesn’t dare pull back, doesn’t even think about it. He’s just kissing back slowly, lazily, thoroughly enjoying the rush of confusion that comes with it. The warmth between them is indescribable, and they both want more, more, more. But apparently, that can’t happen.

It’s been some heavenly minutes of tender kissing and slow grinding when Josh’s hands slide down from Tyler’s waist to grab his ass lightly. And that’s when Tyler pulls away. He laughs breathily, putting his forehead against Josh’s as he looks down, still smiling. One hand rests on Josh’s chest, the other remaining on his neck. Their bodies are still so warm. Tyler shakes his head, then looks up to Josh with the most sincere eyes Josh has ever seen.

“I can’t,” he whispers, and Josh settles his hands back on Tyler’s hips. That’s it. There’s no blow-up, no yelling, no anger. But somehow, there’s understanding. Josh thinks he understands. He thinks he knows why Tyler can’t have sex, thinks it’s because Tyler’s crazy, Tyler’s unstable. He thinks he has Tyler figured out.

He does not, in fact, have Tyler figured out, but that’s okay, because neither of them are going to push it. Josh just nods easily, moving one hand to the back of Tyler’s head and gently guides his face into his own shoulder. The pleasant warmth has turned to complete comfort, and their eyes are closed in minutes. Tyler falls asleep with his legs spread over Josh, clinging onto him like he’s never known a person before, and Josh falls asleep with a lapful of a boy he thinks he has figured out.


	5. Chapter 5

It was supposed to be a one night thing, just a one time thing for Tyler to get a shower and a warm bed. Just one time so that Josh can say he’s helped someone in need. But one night turned into two and three and a week and suddenly, it’s been over a month that Tyler has been staying at Josh’s place.

He still stays in the guest room, but they’ve dropped the word “guest” in favor of calling in Tyler’s room because really, Tyler’s not just a guest in this house anymore. Neither of them are sure of how they feel about that.

Nonetheless, Tyler stays, he always stays, and he promises to pay for it. Josh doesn’t tell him not to, doesn’t tell him he can pay for everything. Because even though he can, he wants Tyler to know that he can do something. Josh thinks he has Tyler figured out. He thinks he’s figured out that Tyler is all bark and no bite, and as outgoing and confrontive as he is, he has serious self-esteem issues. Josh thinks Tyler has low thoughts of himself, that he’s not smart enough, not talented enough, all because he’s homeless. So he lets Tyler get a job, no matter how small it is. Tyler gets a job at a local music store, and he’s actually able to do things for himself. He’s able to _buy_ things for himself, for Josh, for whoever. He’s doing just fine, but it’s still just a job at a music store. And it’s not much, but it’s _something_ and he can split the rent with Josh. He’s doing something.

Tyler had yet again denied working with Josh at the coffee shop and when Josh had asked why, Tyler had just said that, once again, it’s “not his thing.” Whatever the fuck that means.

Josh sees that Tyler is gone for a lot of the day, and he isn’t always quite sure where he goes because he’s certainly gone for longer than his shifts last. But Josh doesn’t question it. He realizes he doesn’t really give a shit as long as Tyler comes home at night. _Home._

Because of this, they don’t see each other a lot during the day. There’s not much time to talk or to cook meals together or to do any of things together that Josh and Tyler are both equally anxious to do, yet completely fearful of. But it all works out, because if not seeing each other all day means that Tyler can just come home at the end of the night and collapse into Josh’s chest, then it’s quite alright with both of them.

Neither of them are sure about what their relationship is. They share kisses quite often, and make out for hours sometimes, but it never goes further than that. Josh is particularly confused. But he doesn’t question it. He realizes he doesn't give a shit as long as Tyler comes back to him.

Over the time they spend together in such close manners, they always learn new things about each other. For instance, Josh learns that Tyler likes to eat his cereal without milk. Tyler learns that Josh prefers to not have decorations in his house because his parents’ house is like that, too. Josh learns that Tyler actually _does_ have a bit of a temper problem. And, one day, Tyler learns that Josh is just really fucking stupid. Either that, or he just doesn’t know the difference between drug needles and medicinal needles.

“Is that what this is, Tyler? Do you just stay here so you have a place to feed your fucking drug addiction? Huh?” Tyler wants to scream. He doesn’t. He can’t scream out what he wants to scream. “I knew I shouldn’t have let you come here. You’re _homeless_ , why the fuck did I trust you?”

“Josh, _no._ That’s not what this is.” Tyler reaches out to grab the bag with the needle inside, but Josh rips it away from him, out of his reach.

“Then what is it, Tyler? What is it?” Josh taunts. Tyler is silent. He can’t say it, can’t bring himself to say it just yet. Josh laughs humorlessly at Tyler’s lack of response. There’s a brief pause before he speaks up again.

“I knew it.” Tyler is shaking. “You know, I should have known you were some druggie. I should have fucking known that's why you’re homeless. You’re probably not even a fucking _orphan_.” Josh is right. Partially. He’s speaking much more lowly, now, in a way that is suddenly so much more terrifying to Tyler than when he was yelling.

“Why were you even going through my stuff?” Tyler is losing, and he knows it. He can’t explain this.

“Um, because this is my house?” Josh is condescending. He’s talking to Tyler like he’s said something stupid, and Tyler hates it. He makes one last grab for the bag in Josh’s hand and Josh lets him have it this time.

“You don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about, man,” Tyler says as he pushes past Josh with a final huff. He doesn’t have time to deal with Josh being stupid. He leaves, walks right out the plain white front door after hiding the bag in his plain gray room, in a place Josh will hopefully never find it. He walks out empty handed, leaving Josh to wonder whether or not he’s ever going to come home. _Home._


	6. Chapter 6

Tyler comes back to Josh’s place ( _their place)_ after not even a full day. It’s not surprising, really, to either of them. It’s not like Tyler has anywhere else to go. Well, besides the streets. He could always go back to the streets. But he doesn’t. He comes home. And it’s not comfortable. Not right away, at least, because Josh is proud and Tyler is proud and neither will admit that they were in the wrong. But it doesn’t matter, not really, because Tyler comes back. The morning is somewhat stiff, some forced conversation and forced silence, but Josh doesn’t mention the needle and Tyler doesn’t mention anything and by nighttime, things are almost entirely back to normal.

A whole week goes by without another argument. A whole week of soft kisses and soft touches and _softsoftsoftness_ in the house that gets Josh thinking that maybe the problems are gone. Maybe it’s over.

Josh is wrong, of course, as he often is. Josh is wrong about thinking he has Tyler figured out and he’s wrong about Tyler being a druggie he’s wrong about Tyler being an orphan and he’s wrong, wrong, wrong. He’s also wrong about thinking that there are no more problems to come because it’s one week. One week before Tyler is in the shower and Josh is on the couch and Tyler gets a text from his mother.

His phone is on the coffee table in front of Josh, right where Tyler left it when he’d been sitting there with him just moments ago. A message pops up, alerting Josh via a vibration on the wooden table, and Josh knows he shouldn’t look. For once, he’s right about something. He’s right in thinking that he shouldn’t look at Tyler’s phone because he remembers the shit that went down last time, remembers how he’d felt when Tyler had left. And clearly, Tyler felt comfortable enough with Josh to leave his phone like that. Clearly, Tyler felt comfortable enough to think that he wouldn’t get a text that he didn’t want Josh to read anytime soon. And clearly, Josh shouldn’t betray Tyler like that. But his phone is _right there_ , and Josh is just so fucking curious. The message is right there on display, lit up like a fucking Christmas tree on the lockscreen. He doesn’t even have to unlock the phone to read it. Not that he could, anyway. He doesn’t know Tyler’s passcode.

**_Tyler, please come home. im sorry i treated you that way. I was surprised when you came home like that. Please come talk. I love you. mom._ **

Josh furrows his brows, phone in his shaking hand. This doesn’t make sense. None of this makes sense. Tyler’s mom is _dead._  Six feet fucking under. Or maybe she was cremated. Who fucking cares? Point is, Tyler is a fucking _orphan,_ and orphans don’t get texts from their dead parents.

Josh’s thoughts are cut off by the sound of the shower shutting off and oh, God, the bathroom door is opening. He keeps Tyler’s phone in his hand, mentally preparing himself for the potential shitshow that is about to take place. He wants to be mad at Tyler for lying again, but he won’t before he gets the facts. He’ll just ask Tyler, interrogate him for hours if he has to on what the fuck is going on Tyler we need to start being honest with each other Tyler. He wants to ask why his mom is texting him if she’s dead. Wants to ask what she means by “came home like that.” He wants to think of more things to ask but he can’t because Tyler is in the hallway now and he’s dressed and he’s looking at Josh. He’s _smiling_ at Josh. He’s unsuspecting.

“Your mom texted you,” Josh says. Josh knows it’s a stupid way to start this. But in the moment, he can’t think of anything else.

Immediately, Tyler visibly stiffens, whole body going rigid as his mind registers what Josh has just said. This wasn’t supposed to happen. His mom was never supposed to want to see him again. Josh wasn’t supposed to find out. God dammit, none of this was supposed to happen! He’s breathing heavily. Tyler is not mad. He’s afraid, but he doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t show it.

Josh picks up on the fact that he must have hit Tyler hard somehow. He continues to speak.

“Why did you tell me you were an orphan?” Josh stands, squints his eyes challengingly at Tyler who is still standing still, hair still wet and still so afraid.

“Why were you going through my phone?” Tyler tries to spin this on Josh. But he can’t, and he knows it.

“It showed up on your lock screen. Why did you tell me you were an orphan?” Josh repeats his question even though he knows Tyler heard him the first time.

“It’s not that simple, Josh,” Tyler says just above a whisper. Josh just rolls his eyes.

“No, fuck you. It is that simple. Tell me why you lied about something so big, because clearly you’re not an orphan if your fucking _mother_ just sent you a text. And what did she mean when she said you ‘came home like that?’ What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” The tension is palpable, they’re still standing, staring. They seem to do a lot of staring. Josh doesn’t like it. He breaks eye contact momentarily as he crosses his arms before looking back up to Tyler. He’s so condescending. It’s almost distasteful. But as soon as he looks back up, Josh is taken aback because Tyler looks fucking _pissed_ all of a sudden. All of the fear or calm indifference or whatever the fuck it was that Tyler had been showing up until now is gone, and there’s the unmistakable glint of rage in his eyes. But he still doesn’t speak. Josh takes a step forward.

“Tyler, fucking _talk_ to me, I can’t keep-”

“I can’t have sex with you.” Tyler cuts him off. Josh blinks once, twice. He shakes his head then sighs. He talks lowly now, almost as if he’s too tired of Tyler’s shit to keep his voice up. He rubs his eyes.

“Tyler what do you . . . That’s not important right now, I need you to-”

“I can’t have sex with you,” Tyler cuts him off yet again, saying the same thing yet again, “because I don’t want you to see.” Tyler is more relaxed, now, for some reason. But Josh is only more confused than he was before.

“See what?”

“That I wasn’t born a boy.” He takes his phone from Josh’s limp hand, reads the message, and frowns. He keeps speaking without looking up from his phone. “That my mom hated me because I went home as me rather than the little girl she raised.” He finally looks up to see pure realization sweep across Josh’s face in the form of wide eyes and raised eyebrows. His demeanor has shifted completely. He doesn’t want pity. He doesn’t want to have this conversation. He doesn’t want Josh to say anything, but he can never seem to get what he wants.

“You’re . . . trans.” Josh tests the word out on his tongue. Tyler groans.

“ _Yes_. Do you want me to drop my fucking pants and show you?” Josh almost wants to say yes, but now is not the time. He remains silent.

“She kicked you out?” He settles on. Tyler inhales.

“She kicked me out.” And they’re silent. Tyler can hear Josh thinking. Tyler supposes he should be uncomfortable now, and Josh supposes that he should be, too, but neither of them are. Tyler is tired and Josh is thinking. But Josh doesn’t have time to think before Tyler is looking back down to his phone, reading the message one more time and shaking his head slightly.

“I have to go.” He turns, already has one hand on the door handle. Josh sighs behind him. He feels Josh’s cold hand grab his arm and turn him gently.

“Ty, stop. I’m sorry, I didn’t . . .” He didn’t know. He wasn’t supposed to know. But Tyler doesn’t want his apology. Tyler doesn’t want pity.

“I have to go,” Tyler repeats, and this time, Josh lets him.


	7. Chapter 7

“How did it go with your parents?”

Josh is sitting, sipping slowly on a cup of coffee on his couch. The couch is old, frayed seams splaying out and cushions sagging under weight. Josh doesn’t dare replace it. He’s sitting, trying but failing to not stare at Tyler who is staring right back. They seem to do a lot of staring. Tyler, who’s just come through the front door, back home after one night. Tyler, who doesn’t answer Josh’s question at first, doesn’t open his mouth as he drops a dirty jacket right onto the floor by the door and makes his way over to Josh’s shitty couch. He stops when he is standing right in front of Josh, looking down at him with a curious, tired look on his face. He doesn’t sit down.

From where he’s sitting, Josh is almost eye level with Tyler’s crotch. He wants to reach out and touch, look, wants to ask, wants to see what’s there, but he realizes that it’s something Tyler probably doesn’t want to talk about right now. He also realizes that Tyler hasn’t answered his question yet. He’s about to open his mouth, about to ask him what the fuck happens when he leaves or at least what happened last night. But before he can, Tyler does something. He doesn’t answer, because Tyler is an asshole. But he does something else. He reaches out his right hand, silently asking Josh to take it. Without hesitating, Josh puts down his steadily cooling coffee mug and grips Tyler’s hand gently. He feels the softness of Tyler’s hands and can’t help but feel guilty about the roughness of his own. But he follows obediently as they pad through the house, all the way to Josh’s bedroom. 

Tyler has never slept in Josh’s room. No matter how close they get, no matter how much they kiss and touch and whatever else, Tyler sleeps in his own room. No matter how many times Josh invites him to sleep in his room after they wake up from having fallen asleep together on the couch, Tyler sleeps in his own room. So Josh is surprised, understandably so, when Tyler leads them into his bedroom. Josh bites his lip when Tyler sits down on the bed. 

“Tyler, we don’t have to.” Tyler shakes his head. Josh thinks he knows what Tyler is doing. He thinks he has it figured out. He thinks Tyler is trying to apologize with sex. He thinks Tyler is asking to have sex because he feels like he should. Tyler feels guilty about leaving, and he’s willing to use sex to make up for it. He thinks he has it figured out.

But so often as he is, Josh is wrong once again. Because Tyler shakes his head in a way that shows he’s not about to offer sex to Josh. Tyler leans back, back down onto the bed until his head hits the pillow and his legs are stretched out. Josh looks at his crotch one more time but averts his eyes before Tyler can see. With a quirked eyebrow, Josh steps around the bed to the other side and copies Tyler’s actions. He lays back the same way as Tyler, and he bites back a smile when he feels Tyler feel around on the bed then grab onto his hand, connecting them once again.

“They don’t get it.” Josh can hear his exhale heavily as he says it, like somehow, a weight was lifted off of his chest. Speaking of chest, what was Tyler’s like? Josh assumes he must have had surgery, because on the nights when they lay together on the couch Josh always rubs his back, his sides, his ribs and there’s never a binder. And Tyler is certainly flat.

“They don’t . . . get . . .”

“That I’m a  _ boy _ . They called me by my birth name.” Josh has never even thought about that. He’s never even thought about how Tyler was always Tyler but he used to not go by Tyler. He frowns. Tyler sits up suddenly, Josh immediately following. They sit on the bed facing each other. “Do you know how that fucking  _ feels _ ?” Obviously he doesn’t. He’s never even thought about Tyler having a different birth name, let alone what it feels like to have it used when he doesn’t want it to be. “They don’t get it. They don’t get that all those years that they forced me into dresses made me confused and miserable. They got mad everytime I looked for clothes in the boy’s section of fucking American Eagle. They don’t get that I was only trying to be myself, and now that I  _ am, _ they still don’t fucking get it. I mean, shit, I know they’re Christians, but they told me they’d love me no matter what and I just thought . . .” Josh puts a hand over Tyler’s mouth. Tyler’s eyes widen.

“You’re fuckin’  _ rambling _ ,” Josh teases with a smirk. He’s trying to lighten the mood, Tyler can tell, so Tyler laughs lightly once Josh has pulled his hand away and thinks that maybe, he doesn’t need his parents if he has Josh.

“Kiss me,” Tyler says with tired eyes, and Josh can’t hesitate. He pulls Tyler in, connects their lips sweetly in a lazy, long kiss that reminds them of their first. After they break apart, Tyler bites his lip with a concentrated expression on his face.

“What?”

“Nothing, just . . . A little while ago, when you found the needles . . .” Josh groans. Tyler isn’t sure why.

“Yeah, I got it now,” he says. “Sorry,” he whispers.” Tyler wants to cry.

“You thought I was a druggie.”

“That was before I did some research.” Tyler smiles, heart swelling at the stupid fact that Josh is actually  _ trying _ to understand. No one’s ever tried before. 

It’s Josh’s turn to bite his lip now, his turn to get serious momentarily. He runs his fingers along Tyler’s downturned hand, but doesn’t make any move to grab it.

“Alright well, I’m glad that’s figured out, but we need to figure  _ us  _ out, Tyler.” Tyler hasn’t even thought of having this conversation. “We need to like, be honest if this is going to work. Whatever  _ this _ is,” he adds, because he’s still not even sure. They kiss and touch and do other things that surely, can’t be platonic. But is there a label for whatever it is? It’s  _ weird _ having to talk to Tyler like this, but Josh can’t go back now.

“I know, I know. It’s just kind of hard to tell your boyfriend that you’re not even really who they think you are, you know? Well I guess you don’t know. But it’s hard, okay? I’m sorry.” Josh freezes in the middle of Tyler’s speaking as a grin grows on his face. And suddenly, he decides that he can still be smiles at people he’ll never see again and he can still be scowls at people he actually wants to stay in his life and he can still be bitter but none of that applies to Tyler. No, Tyler is the exception. Tyler calls Josh his boyfriend. “What?” Tyler asks, because who the fuck smiles in the middle of another person’s apology?

“Boyfriend?” Tyler doesn’t react. He’s unsure of how Josh has taken it.

“I mean.”

Josh just nods, and Tyler nods back, and they’re sitting there like bobbleheads until they both collapse backwards onto the bed again, back to the same position they’d been in before. Josh turns on his side to look at Tyler, and Tyler looks back.

“I hope things will be better now, because I’m tired of fighting.”

“I think we’ll be just fine, now.”

There’s still work to be done. They’re still new. Not everything’s figured out, not everything is out in the open. But they still lay there, and Tyler begins to drift off to sleep and Josh thinks about Tyler, and he thinks about Tyler not being an orphan and Tyler not being a druggie and Tyler being trans and Tyler’s testosterone needles and Tyler’s parents, and he thinks about how really, he’s never had Tyler figured out all along.


End file.
